first meetings
by cerruenos
Summary: because they say everyone meet's their match one day. . .
1. Drool

roses are red, violets are blue, me no own , so you no sue

cause i just think WATXM gambit need to be taken down a couple notches, and this story has been in my head for Weeks, chattering at me.

sorry if i offend anyone, but if you don't like it, don't read it.

Logan smirked. " Shut yer mouth, gumbo, yer droolin"

Normally, he would have been extremely pissed right now. Having to put up with the smirking Cajun terrorist-for-hire who had already almost killed him once, that goddamn cocky, arrogant Gambit always set his teeth on edge. Chuck had wanted him, and despite Logan's loud protests, the man was hired (for an exorbitant fee, of course). Had Logan had a choice in the matter, he would've shish-ka- bobbed the man the minute he walked in their door, but, unfortunately, once again the universe had refused to listen to his pleas. He had been forced to grit his teeth, swallow his pride and give Gambit a tour of the mansion, a torture made even worse by the irritating smell he gave off, the swirling of the hem of his trench coat and his constant smart-aleck remarks. Once they had reached the last sight on the tour, the danger room, however, his mood had taken a dramatic turn for the better. Why?

That could be summed up in one word: Rogue.

Logan smiled with fatherly pride as he watched the lithe woman effortlessly take down a 20- foot-tall metal spider from up on the observation deck. She executed the series of moves he had taught her flawlessly, striking the joints with blasts of ice using the power she had stolen from bobby. A couple of well placed strikes, and the legs shattered, spraying chunks of frozen metal across the metallic room.

"Gambit does not . . .oh. T'anks" gambit said distractedly, whipping a small string of drool off his chin. He watched with rapt attention as more enemies piled into the room, several heavily armed thugs, and rogue took down the first 2 within three seconds before making short work of the rest. Every move she made was predetermined, purposeful

And breathtaking to watch. As the last part of the simulation, several drones with spinning razor-bladed edges shot into the room, flying around at erratic, unpredictable angles. She shot one down with a blast of energy, barely dodged two more but managed to eradicate them by sending them crashing into each other, and back flipped over the last one before sending it spinning into the wall with a well- place kick. The way she bent, and stretched, and the spandex – _Mon dieu._ He had never thought of a fabric so fondly before in his life.

The simulation came to an end with a soft beep, and rogue came to a halt, twisting to work the kinks out of her back. She looked up at the control room, grinning, and called out " how was that, Logan?"

"_Fantastic"_ Gambit thought, just as Logan called down " terrific, stripes! 2 minutes, 28 seconds". The loup-garou had a proud smile on his face, which Gambit briefly wondered at. " Great" rogue called back. "Ah'm gonna go get something to eat. Want meh tah make y' anything', wolvie? There's half a turkey in the fridge, ah kept the rug- rats off it fo' yah" "any beer?" Logan called in a pained tone, and rogue smirked " ah'll see what ah can do." she turned and started to walk away, and Gambit stifled a groan. She was southern, too?

" Oh, an Logan?" as an afterthought, rogue turned back to face the big, hairy Canadian.

"Yeah, stripes?" Logan called down.

"Tell the swamp rat t' keep the only good-looking part's a his face offa ma ass, or ah will pluck them outta their sockets, string them up like fuzzy dice and hang them on the mirror of ma car, caprice?" he smirked at gambit's shell-shocked expression.

"i'll make sure he gets the message"

" oh yeah" gambit thought, watching her walk away. " she gonna be mine, l'right"


	2. growling at 3 am

Sorry, guys, these are a - series, I guess, of one shots. They have absolutely no correlation to each other, I'm just trying to hypothesize the different ways in which rogue and remy might meet.

You know the drill, must I really say it? ~Sighs~ fine. I. Don't. Own. The. X men.

Loud bangs, crashes and curses woke rogue from a pleasant sleep. A quick glance at the glowing green alarm clock on bedside table volunteered what she already knew, that it was way too early to even think about getting up. Groggily blinking the sand from her eyes, she sighed and pushed off her thick, warm quilts, reluctantly bending her legs down to make contact with her fuzzy magenta carpet. The downstairs foyer was snarling, which either meant forge had spliced the plaster with tiger DNA or Logan had gotten into a fight with something again. Slowly stretching to work out the kinks in her muscles, she groaned, raising her eyes heavenward in a silent prayer. Grumbling, Rogue pulled on the green and yellow uniform lying in a heap at the bottom of her bed, and started out the door, slamming it behind her.

" Goddamnit Logan, it's to early for this shit"

Logan dodged an arc of flaming cards the smirking Cajun had tossed at him, evading a swipe of his bo- staff, and made another leap at the thick bundle of files clutched in Gambits left hand. The front hall was absolutely destroyed, or at least well on its way. Jagged holes were knocked in the plaster; scorch marks were plastered all over the ceiling, frayed wires were sparking from were they had been yanked from the walls and floor. Logan, however, didn't particularly care –he was working hard to keep the Cajun away from any possible exit. The goddamn mercenary was one of the only people who could actually give him a decent challenge. He had gambit backed up to the stairs, trying to get a clean shot at carving up his smirking face, when he noticed rogue pounding down the steps, and groaned. He should have known this entire racket would wake her up. She was a very light sleeper, one of the many habits she had gotten from him, he supposed. In that moment, while he was distracted, there was a sharp "**clang!"** as Gambit's adamantium staff connected with the side of his head. The last thing Logan saw as everything went black was rogue's ungloved hand connecting with Gambit's nose , and he fell unconscious with a smile on his face .


	3. collision of coincidence

"_pardonnez-moi"_

"Not a probl'm"

As rogue continued down the rain-soaked street, she briefly wondered why the tall Cajun with red eyes seemed so familiar.


	4. driveby kissing

_~roses are red , violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue~_

"Back on de X-men's home turf. Ah, well such is fate. Had t'happen sometime right? Jus' stay away Fr'm monsieur claws an y'll be fine"

In his defense, Gambit was preoccupied. Worried-on guard, away from the nestling heat of New Orleans, his native city.

He shivered, pulling his coat tighter. Some day's he really hated his job. New York was a cold, cold place.

Remy Lebeau **hated** cold.

So understandably, he was distracted. That's really the only way she could have gotten so close.

Close enough to shove him against a nearby wall and slam her lips over his.

A very shocked Remy caught only a glimpse of leather and close-cropped, white streaked auburn hair before his back hit the wall and his eyes shut reflexively.

He was no stranger to female attention, far from it. This specific circumstance had had never happened to him before, but others had –so his body took over while his brain was still trying to shift into gear

(Cause, ya' know, he was usually the one surprising femmes, not the other way around)

Damn, she was a good kisser-

Moving against him in ways that ought to be illegal

Running the light, fluttering touch of pale fingers up his neck and through his hair.

His hands traced over her curves ~tight, muscled and defined~ merde, she had a figure like a friggen hourglass.

Settling on the arches of her perfect hips and pulling her flush against him, large hands tightening to hold her in place-slanting his lips over hers again and again and invading her mouth like the thief he was, hell-bent on stealing every last bit of her coconut taste.

Coconut, vanilla frosting and brown ….

Hot, hungry, demanding, dizzy with want.

Every cell in his body screamed in protest when she finally dragged herself away from him, hissing out a deep gasp. She was trying to get her breath back, he registered through a haze of lust, staring at him with wide eyes and making tiny little animal pants that the pressure in his jeans heard before his brain.

Pale, pale skin, lily or alabaster, deep dark green eyes, plump purple lips and a scattering of freckles. He barely had time to register anything else before she turned and walked back into the crush of rush hour foot-traffic, flashing him a small, apologetic grin over her shoulder.

What the hell?

Since when did simple kissing have that effect on him?

"Are ya happy, kit? - Ah touched somebody". The woman drifted past, lock in conversation with a younger, brown-haired girl in a jean jacket.

" I didn't mean, like-"

"Some random stranger who was **mahnding his own business"**

"I totally didn't, like, want you to -"

"But no, just cause I got control of mah powers now-"

"Will you, like, just-"

"Never mind that the poor man is probably gonna be walkin' around with a hard-on fer the next few hours-"

"ROGUE!"

So her name was Rogue, huh?

Maybe New York wasn't as bad as he thought.

Sorry-lost inspiration for a while. On the bright side, I got a lot of new ideas recently, which I will be typing up and submitting as fast as I can.

(On a side note, sorry if it's a little hotter than what I usually write- I've been suffering from a Romy smut deficiency lately. can someone please write some more? Or direct me to where I can find some? Much obliged)

Read and review.


	5. warmer colder okay, warm again

A warm, raspy Creole voice was the first thing Rogue heard struggling back to consciousness, which was in and of itself immediately suspicious.

"Was beginning t' t'ink y' weren't gonna wake up, belle. Remy likes de view, but at dis point he'd prefer a little conversation, _je Sais_?"

Ruthlessly squashing her body's immediate response – to rub herself all over the owner of that voice like a cat in heat-

She straightened into a crouch on unsteady legs, eying the corner the voice emanated from with a suspicious glare.

**God, he's hot!**

**Shut it, kitty**

**Seriously, Rogue, that dude is smo-kin . . .**

**Be quiet!**

He was gorgeous, she had to admit. Wiry, with a long, muscled swimmers body, a chiseled face framed by falling waves of auburn hair and a small soul patch. Arms crossed over an angular chest, he watched her examine him with a small, secret grin.

"Enjoyin' de view, belle?"

Yes; very, very much so- she could just imagine clambering onto him and burying her face in his chest. Kissing those wide, full lips, closing her eyes and relaxing backwards as he slowly stripped off her uniform, leaving her bare to his hungry, red-on-black gaze . . ..

Red –on-black?

Wait a second –

Her eyes narrowed.

"Whatever you're doin', GAMBIT, knock it off right now"

His eyes widened marginally before he shook his head, letting out a whiskey-rough chuckle. Simultaneously the air between the two, which moments before had seemed to be charged with static, electric crackles, fell flat. She sighed in relief at being able to think clearly, without her thoughts being clouded by lust.

She stared around the room for a few minutes-door less, unadorned, curved walls of plain gray metal- trying not to look back in his direction. She could feel his heated gaze on her, was ridiculously aware of his intent perusal.

The eyes of a predator-of a cobra transfixing a mouse.

Surprisingly, he was the first to break the silence.

"So den, y' are . . .?"

"Rogue .ma name is Rogue"

He smirked. "Dat's not a name. Come on, what is it?" "Gambit ain't a name either" came the return volley, laced with a sharp edge of annoyance. "Do ya have any ahdea were we are?" " On a ship" he answered cheekily, shooting her a hood- eyed smile. "Crewed by mutants. Saw some on deck before I was locked up in here- and don go trying ta change the subject. Seriously_, ma nom est-"_

"Gambit, Remy Lebeau, Damien Black, Robert Lord" the names were rattled off in a bored, husky drawl as she turned her back on him, lying down to face one of the room's cold metal sides. "Why don'cha go hit on someone who cares?". He grinned, lacing his fingers behind his head. This was too fun.

"Chere, if ya don't tell ol' Remy yer name he's gonna have ta think of one for ya"

No response.

"Less'e – Amelia, Antoinette, Annabelle, Anastasia, Anya, Alyssa, Annabeth, Ashley. Y' don't look like an Ashley, but I suppose anything's possible. Azalea. Amber. Feel free to stop me at any time"

Still no response. Probably hoping that if she ignored him long enough he'd give up, like that would happen.

"B's, den? Bridget, Bianca, Bethany"

" Yer not gonna stop, are ya?"

"Basil, Breanna , Brenda, Brenn, -


	6. distractions

"Where's dat lazy son o' mine?

The eldest Lebeau brother merely shrugged, used to his father's irate tones. Without looking up from his book, he could sense the man stalking closer

"playin poker" Henri replied after a minute, and was scarcely surprised to receive a sarcastic eye-roll as his only reward.

"One' a dem online sights"

"why am I not surprised?"

Devi1Lord19: tik-tok, tik-tok

Wanderer23: will u hush up, swamp rat? For sum1 who wants me 2 hurry up so bad, u sur r bein distracting

Devi1Lord19: so u find moi distractin, chere?cant say I blame y – most femmes do ;)

Wanderer23: ~facepalms~I did it again, didn't I?

Devi1Lord19: y' did kinda walk in2 th 1 -*whistles innocently*

Wanderer23: *GLARE* I will get u. don no when, don no how, but some day I will find u. &when I do . . .

Devi1Lord19: hey, no need to go all obsessive-stalkery on dis ol 'swamp rat'. If u wanted 2 go out wit moi, all y' had ta do was ask

Wanderer23: thts it – U R so dead -

Devi1Lord19: *grins* lik I haven't heard that 1 b4

Wanderer23: *narrows eyes* dead. Man. **Walkin**.

Jean-luc smirked, dragging his attention away from the brightly lit screen as he sauntered out of the room.


End file.
